


Get Well Soon

by friskytomato



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Sick Fic, angst????, but yeah maybe a little bit of Johnny angst, its mostly just fluff fluff fluff, sort of at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friskytomato/pseuds/friskytomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert woke up groggy and tired; a wave of exhaustion hitting him before he had even moved yet. He laid still, taking deep breaths to try and gain back some energy (or fall back asleep, either would work, he thought). Even through his closed eyes he could sense the light streaming through his window, and he faintly registered the chirping of birds outside. It was a beautiful day, and John was slightly bitter. The day had no right to be like that when John was in such a shitty mood, no right at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Well Soon

John Egbert woke up groggy and tired; a wave of exhaustion hitting him before he had even moved yet. He laid still, taking deep breaths to try and gain back some energy (or fall back asleep, either would work, he thought). Even through his closed eyes he could sense the light streaming through his window, and he faintly registered the chirping of birds outside. It was a beautiful day, and John was slightly bitter. The day had no right to be like that when John was in such a shitty mood, no right at all.

He was still for an immeasurable amount of time, the seconds seemed to slink forward as John had his eyes shut and couldn't really tell much of anything. The blankets provided a warm cocoon for him as he let his mind wonder, floating in and out of consciousness.

What brought him out of his lazy stupor was the sound of the front door opening, and his father removing his shoes at the door, and putting them neatly in the closet. John knew then that he had to get up, his father wouldn't be very happy hearing that he had been laying in bed for hours.

John rolled out of bed, his torso feeling like a billion pounds and his arms feeling like twigs. They wobbled, the gave way to John's weight, causing him to fall back onto the bed. His head spun and throbbed from the sudden movement, and John groaned. His throat felt dry and crackly.

Fuck, this was hell.

"John?" He heard his father calling up from the kitchen. He could smell breakfast (or was it lunch? how long had he actually slept?) being made in the kitchen, and the mere thought of food made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"John!" His father called again, and John tried to answer him, opening his mouth through the layer of gross and trying to get his vocal chords to work. He produced and empty and pitiful groan that cracked at the end as John tried to up the volume to get dad to hear.

This was enough to stir his dads curiosity, as he heard feet trudging up the stairs seconds later, and the creak of his door opening made John wince and curl up tighter within his blankets.

"John, son? You're not up yet?" there was the predictable disapproving tone in his voice than John recognized every time he did something like stay in bed until the late morning. John maneuvered himself so that he was looking at his dad, and saw that, yes, the frown was evident on his face. John would feel bad if he wasn't already filled up with feeling like absolute shit that got run over by a car.

"John, are you feeling okay?" There was concern now, and John figured that he probably looked about as bad as he felt.

John could only groan in response, and that seemed to settle something with dad, because he was immediately at John's side, hovering over him with his hand on John's forehead. "Oh, John you're burning up." He whispered. "Here, stay in bed. Is there anything you want? Food, water...?"

"Sleep..." Was John's answer, and he congratulated himself on actually speaking with words instead of communicating with groans as he had been.

John's father nodded his head and retreated from John's room, returning moments later with a little white container. "Sleeping pills." Dad told him, and John only nodded as he took the pills with some stale water that had been sitting on his bed side table.

Johns dad put his hand back on John's forehead and rubbed his thumb down his cheek in a fatherly gesture. John let his eyes slip closed, and he could hear his dad exiting the room before he laid there and eventually slipped back into slumber.

\--

The second time John woke up, he wasn't feeling much better. His head was throbbing and everything was sore, but he felt like he was maybe the slightest bit hungry. He tried calling for his dad, and his throat felt raw and closed.

Regardless, his father came up anyways, opening the door tentatively and peering inside. Once he had established that John was, indeed, awake, he made his way inside to settle himself back on John's bed. 

"It's good to see you're awake, son." His voice was still quiet, as if he was afraid of hurting John or scaring him away. "Is there anything you need?" He put his hand back on John's forehead, testing his temperature.

"I'm...hungry, I think." John's voice sounded scruffy and slightly nasally with his sinuses so stuffed up.

His father smiled down at him and nodded his head. "What do you feel like? Anything you want." John doubted that they really had anything he wanted in their kitchen, but he also didn't doubt that his father would go pick up whatever he requested since he was in such a state.

"Just some soup would be nice." John's father nodded his head and lifted himself up off the bed, turning around and heading out the door. In a few minutes, John could already smell the scents wafting up from the stove.

John figured that he slipped in and out of consciousness a few times, as it wasn't long at all until his father had returned with a bowl of coup and some crackers in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. He set everything on the counter beside the bed, and John propped himself up on his pillows so that he was sitting. He didn't want to spill anything on his sheets, so eating while laying down was not the greatest idea.

The soup was handed to him, and John wasted no time in climbing in, gobbling up as much as he could. John's father sat beside him the entire time, watching his son eat. Once he had finished, dad took the plate and set it back on the table beside them.

"You're feeling better now, aren't you?" Dad's hands rested on the top of Johns head, rubbing his hair. John felt the gesture was incredibly comforting and couldn't help but tilt his head into the touch. John's dad smiled and wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him in for a hug.

The warmth of his father's arms enveloping him made John smile, and he put his arms around his fathers neck in return, putting on slight pressure to try and get him closer. Dad understood the message as he chuckled quietly and shifted until he was sitting on the bed beside John. He lifted his son up until he was sitting on his dad's lap, his head back on his dad's shoulders, face buried in his neck.

John felt his fathers large hands rubbing up his back, and resting on his knee. He was whispering something into John's ear, something that sounded suspiciously like "Try and go to sleep now, son. It's the only way you'll get better." And John felt like he could do just that; fall asleep in his fathers arms and never wake up.

\--

John could feel the sharpness of reality cutting slowly into his mind. He was sweaty from all the extra body heat inside of the blankets, and he could feel that his dad was burning up too. He slowly and carefully got out of bed, trying his absolute best not to disturb his father.

Once out, he made his way to the bathroom, adjusting the dials on the shower until a steady stream of cool water was pouring out of the head. He peeled his pajamas off and stepped inside, reveling in how good the water felt on his overheated back.

once he felt that his body had cooled down enough, he turned the knobs again until the water was more heated and properly suited for a shower. John stood, letting his mind wonder back through the day.

He recalled how his father had climbed into bed with him, how his strong arms had felt around his body, how his hands had felt rubbing up and down John's back.

It had all been very fatherly and comforting at the time, but now, alone in the shower, John couldn't rid the image from his head.

The image of those arms encasing him, preventing escape. The way his hands had felt so sure the way they gripped his knee (gripped? Hadn't they rested? John couldn't quite remember). The way he could feel his fathers breath ghosting across his skin, and the way his neck had smelt, all musty and thick with cologne.

John's hand trailed down his chest, but John stopped it, shaking his head . No no no no NO. This wasn't an okay thing. He couldn't be thinking this sort of shit about his-

It hadn't been the first time something like this had happened. The first time, John remembered, was absolutely horrifying and John had promised himself it would never happen again. Thinking about his father in that sort of way was disgusting and wrong and John felt like an absolute monster, someone that should be locked away, for thinking the things that he did.

But that didn't effect how much he wanted it. He could still smell his fathers breath, something like tobacco and breakfast and it was all just so dad.

There was a chorus of oh my god oh my god holy shit fuck as John's hand began moving again, his eyes sliding shut. It was as if he wasn't even in control of his movements anymore but at the same time he was doing everything.

His hands were much smaller than his fathers, but he could remember perfectly the way that they rubbed him and stroked him, and he applied the same principle to the hand on his chest, increasing it's size in his mind until he was satisfied.

If his dad wasn't completely repulsed by the thought of having sex with his son (John was sure he would be) and if it actually WAS his father in the shower touching John, he would probably go slow, drag everything out until it was almost painful. John reflected this in the way that he pinched and rolled his nipple with his right hand, the other coming up to muffle any noises that threatened to come out of John's mouth.

He pulled and rubbed, making it stand to a point before moving on to the other one. His breath was coming quicker as he treated his other nipple just as roughly as the first, practically making it sore before continuing downward.

He could almost hear his father whispering encouraging words in his ear, things like "You're so beautiful John," and " Yes, perfect. I'm so proud of you."

John could feel himself slipping down the wall and he imagined that if his dad were there, he would hold him up, but right now he just sat down with his legs spread, a hand going between them to trace the bottom of his already hard cock.

John was trying his best, but he knew (hoped) that there would be much more petting and loving going on. Though, since John was incapable of both those things being alone in the shower, He just dealt with it, gripping his dick lightly and pulling up. This time he couldn't stop the sound from spilling out of his mouth. It was a combination of a moan and the word "Dad...!"

He increased the pressure, tugging and pulling, the noises increased in volume no matter how much John tried to quiet himself. He could feel the warmth pooling around in his stomach, his muscles becoming more and more tense.

Much too soon, John felt himself let go. His hand gripped the bottom, milking himself until he could feel the high of the orgasm ebbing away. His breathing was labored and he was shaking, trying to get a grip on himself.

Fuck.


End file.
